Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
I watch from the corner, hidden by shadows. They would see me if they spared the merest glance in my direction, but they are utterly absorbed in each other. He is tall and handsome and brave with dark hair and hazel eyes, and she is a goddess descended to earth. Yes, an absolute goddess, one I have often worshipped from afar, with her deep vermilion hair and her eyes like chips of malachite. And she dances with him, he who is everything I can never be, and I dream of just one look, to be deemed worthy of that regard. But I am skinny and more than a little plain, and she would never settle for one such as I, when she has the Gryffindor Quidditch captain ready to fulfill her slightest whim. The next day, I can only watch as he goes down on bent knee, and asks, "Lily, will you marry me?" She would never even look a gawky, big nosed Slytherin, of course, but I still feel hope I didn't know I had shrivel and die, and I tell myself, "Severus Snape, you're a complete fool." But I know I'll always worship her, my scarlet haired goddess.
